


Take off my mask

by CarissaThePanda



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Heavy Angst, M/M, MAYBE some fluff we will see, Multi, Self Harm Fic, confirmed character death by suicide, this is not a happy story, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7208141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarissaThePanda/pseuds/CarissaThePanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When asked about his peculiar choice of knee pad, Bokuto Koutarou usually answered with a “they’re super comfy!!” or “they help me stand out,” as if his unusual two-toned hair wasn’t enough of an indicator. Generally people accepted his response as typical, nonsensical Bokuto, and let him be. Akaashi Keiji was a different matter entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Creating his mask

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! So this is my very first fic EVER so constructive criticism is welcome! 
> 
> I want to warn you: THIS IS A SELF HARM FIC and will probably be TRIGGERING to some of you. If that's the case, please don't read this, ok? >>ATTN: THERE WILL BE A SUICIDE IN THE UPCOMING CHAPTERS.
> 
> Anyway, that being said, please enjoy this angsty Haikyuu fic and feel free to leave comments.
> 
> ((PLEASE NOTE: There is a self harm scene in this chapter!! If that bothers you, skip from "So it really shouldn't have been that much of a shock..." to "...promptly fallen asleep"))

He practiced everyday. Usually in front of the bathroom mirror, sometimes in his camera’s “selfie mode” on the walk to school, when he thought nobody was looking. He stretched his mouth wide, practiced showing teeth, lifting one corner then the other, added a little crinkle of the eyes for effect. He repeated soft “hey hey heys” through slightly chapped lips, adding as much enthusiasm as he dared without alerting his parents or passerby. The process made his jaw hurt, but it was necessary for his charade. He had to be normal. Normal boys can smile and laugh. Normal boys don’t cry in front of others. Normal boys don’t stop functioning if they have a “rough day.” 

 

So every morning without fail, Bokuto Koutarou practiced his smile. 

 

\-----------------------------------

 

He overcompensated. A lot. Teachers called him “hyperactive” and “overly enthusiastic.” Classmates referred to him as “loud” and “obnoxious.”  _ What a joke _ , he thought bitterly,  _ if only they knew.  _ But he refused to give it up, because it was better than the truth. He could hide behind this flamboyant persona, and pretend he was more than a shell of a person.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

Around his second year of middle school, Bokuto discovered volleyball. He had always had good hand-eye coordination. Unfortunately that didn’t help much with his grades, as his nagging mother loved to point out, but it gave him an edge in volleyball. Soon he was able to execute a perfect spike, and the genuine praise from his captain and coach gave him the slightest bit of elation. He allowed himself to believe he could be good at something, if he worked hard enough. So he threw his whole being into training, or rather, about 85 percent of his being; the other 15 percent needed to maintain his facade. 

  
Granted, it was a challenge. The emotional effects of making a mistake were detrimental. At those times, his mind went into overdrive, relying on an over exuberant boost of self confidence to push back the despair that was always lurking in the depths of his brain. It got to be too much of a strain; by the end of his third year in middle school he would frequently  excuse himself during practice to have an emotional breakdown over every missed spike, every botched receive. He knew he needed a new plan if he intended to keep playing. 

 

The solution came to him during the final practice match of his middle school career. His third mistake in a row, but coach had forbidden him to leave during matches. He was at his wits end. There was no way he could keep a smile plastered on his cheeks while complete and utter failure loomed on the horizon. All it took was one offhand comment:

 

“Looks like Bokuto’s off his game today.”

 

His mask shattered as he collapsed in a heap, allowing his most prevalent thought to surface:

 

“WHY CAN’T I DO ANYTHING RIGHT?”

 

They stared. He didn’t blame them. It wasn’t the shouting that shocked them; he shouted everything. It was just that, in two years of playing together, his team had never once seen an unconfident Bokuto. A Bokuto who wasn’t completely sure of himself. Cautiously, they reached out to him, many attempting to console him with assurances of “it happens to everyone” and “you’re just having a bad day, no worries.”

 

But there were worries. A lot of them. He cursed inwardly at his outburst. Years of hard work down the drain because he couldn’t hold his emotions down for one freaking practice match. And then it hit him. The solution to his emotional imbalance in the form of a singular snide remark:

 

“Wow Bo, didn’t know you had an emo mode.”

 

_ My whole existence is an emo mode.  _

 

_ Wait. _

 

_ That’s it.  _

 

_ People have other emotions too. I can be upset and maintain my cover. I just need to be dramatic. _

 

Thus, he was able to push the overwhelming negativity back down his throat, quickly filtering the less harmful expressions of self-deprecation through his mouth, convincing his teammates that yes, he does have other emotions than his overconfident grin would suggest, and no, these emotions aren’t any less annoying.

So he completed his middle school days with two faces, one a Cheshire grin, the other a frown so deep it’s crevices rivalled those of the Grand Canyon. Both served their purpose well. 

To serve as a mask for an empty puppet called Bokuto.

\---------------------------------- 

By the time he entered high school, he had it down to a science. His enthusiasm was second nature; some days he almost believed he was happy. Almost. 

Likewise, his “emo self” was making more and more appearances. 

Tripped down the stairs? “HOW COULD I BE SO CLUMSY?!”

Failed a test? “I’M SUCH A MORON!!”

No lunch money? “I MIGHT AS WELL JUST WASTE AWAY IN THIS HALLWAY.”

Eventually he was able to strike a semi-decent balance between “normal Bokuto” and “emo Bokuto,” which allowed his social circle to grow little by little. In fact, some would say he was popular. But he was careful to keep everyone at arm’s length; no one was allowed to get close enough to be called a “friend.” Consequently, he often ate lunch alone on the rooftop, although about halfway through his first year a few members of the volleyball team had discovered his lone wolf tendencies and basically invited themselves to his supposed solitary rooftop sessions.

He did have a somewhat close bond with the team, yet there seemed to be a glass wall separating him from the others. This invisible barrier that allowed them to interact without getting too close. He wouldn’t allow them to see his true self, not ever.

_ They would never understand.  _

_ They don’t really care. _

_ They just hang out with you out of obligation. _

_ Don’t get used to it. _

He repeated these phrases like a prayer, drilling them into his head, forcing himself to remember that he was less than them. He could never be as happy as them, as accomplished as them, as normal as them.

So it really shouldn’t have been much of a shock when he found himself face down in a pool of his own blood one lonely Saturday morning. His parents were out of town for yet another business meeting, and Bokuto had the house to himself. Again. He had gotten home Friday evening after a particularly stressful day. He had failed his second history exam of the month, been left alone for lunch (“I have to run an errand for Hiroki-sensei,” “Sorry, Bo! Makeup exam…”), and accidently fallen asleep in chemistry, missing the notes for the third time this week. 

Practice wasn’t much better. He couldn’t seem to land a single spike, and after launching into his typical dejected speech, even the half-hearted encouragements from his teammates couldn’t lift his spirits, and he had eventually packed up and left early. He knew his parents were going to be out of town, but coming home to an empty house darkened his already miserable mood. 

“Hey hey hey,” he whispered weakly into the gloomy halls. “I’m home!” He tried to sound enthusiastic, to pick himself up, but his voice cracked instead, and he collapsed as tears began to leak down his cheeks. 

_ They aren’t here, idiot! _

_ Why would they be? They hate you! _

_ You are such a disappointment.  _

_ No one would want to have you for a son.  _

_ Your grades suck. _

_ You are so fake. _

_ You can’t even play volleyball right. _

_ Your team hates you. _

_ People only talk to you out of pity. _

_ You should just hurry up and die already. You’d be doing them a favor. _

  
He didn’t realize he had chewed through his lip until he caught the faint scent of iron. Slowly he picked himself up and in a daze stumbled to the bathroom. Numbly, he opened the cupboard, shifting objects around until he found the small package of replacement blades for his father’s razor. With shaking hands he removed his school uniform, placing it out of harm’s  way on top of the washing machine. Turning, he examined his naked body in the full-length mirror hanging from the door, and allowed his mind to once again slip into his personal hell.

_ Do it. _

_ You don’t deserve to live on this Earth. _

The tears remained unceasing, racing down his face and cascading to the tile below. He traced the veins in his arms, the hair on his stomach, the defined muscles of his thighs.

_ There.  _

No one would notice the marred flesh under his knee pads. 

He carefully withdrew the sliver of metal and tested the edge by drawing it swiftly across his finger, watching as small rivulets of red pooled in his hand. Once again staring at his pale reflection, he reached down to the smooth skin of his inner knee, and began to draw thin red lines with the blade.

\----------------------------------

When his eyes fluttered open, his first thought was to wonder when his bed had become so uncomfortable. Then the rank smell of dried blood hit him full force, and he shot up; an action he immediately regretted as his head began to pound and his vision blur with dizziness. Once he was able to catch his breath, Bokuto realized the gravity of the situation. He hadn’t actually meant to commit suicide, but last night’s thoughts had spiraled dangerously out of control, and he had lost all reason as he made cut after cut on his milky thigh. Speaking of which, he glanced down and immediately felt the urge to vomit. 

They had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but the blood almost covered the entirety of the bathroom floor, and he had fainted in it, meaning that he was in desperate need of a shower. His attempt to walk the three feet to the bathtub proved futile; his legs felt like freshly-made jello and when he stood his nausea increased tenfold. So he ended up half crawling, half scooting to the tub, and heaved himself in, turning on the hot water.

An action he regretted immediately as the water came into contact with the fresh wounds. He felt like he was burning alive, but he knew he had to get clean so he could inspect the damage. 

  
After the pain had subsided and the tub was filled with eerie pinkness, Bokuto managed to clamber out with less effort than it had taken to get in, but he still felt like puking and his head was begging for painkillers. He carefully stepped around the mostly dried puddle on the floor  and retrieved some ibuprofen, neosporin, and bandages, before making his way to his room at the end of the hall.

He was surprised by the number of marks. With the amount of blood he thought there would have been more, but apparently a few cuts could cause a lot of blood loss if he wasn’t careful. He spread on the medicine, knowing it wouldn’t prevent scarring but it would at least help keep out infection, and bandaged his legs. After dressing himself in comfy pajama pants, he returned to the scene of the crime. 

It took him about an hour to scrub away the blood, and another two hours for the smell of bleach to escape the house, but by then Bokuto had done the laundry, eaten a light snack to replenish electrolytes, and had promptly fallen asleep.

\----------------------------------

When Monday morning came around, Bokuto was feeling...strange. Oddly calm, given the events that had transpired a mere two days before. He almost felt okay. Not happy, but okay. Almost as if he didn’t have to work as hard at keeping his usual joviality in place. It was weird, but maybe Friday night’s actions had actually helped, after all.

With those thoughts in mind, Bokuto practiced his smile with renewed vigor, determined to milk the good vibe for as long as possible.

Which ended up coming to a screeching halt at ten to four, when practice was to begin. Bokuto had gotten to the clubroom a little earlier than the rest of his teammates, hoping to get his pads on before they could witness the damage. However, he had run into a bit of a predicament. His shorts were just a hair too short, and as a result, the bandages were visible above the knee pads. He cursed silently as the voices of the team could be heard approaching the hallway. There was no way he was going to be able to explain this without completely outing himself, and that was not a conversation he was ready to have. He desperately rummaged through his bag for another pair of shorts.

What he came up with was a pair of too-baggy sweatpants, but they would do for now. He quickly hoisted them up, just as the others entered the room.

Practice was grueling, even more so considering his recent activity. His thighs were burning and he was sweating profusely from the combined pain of the cuts and the heat of the heavy cotton pants. Noticing his exertion, the coach asked if he wanted to take a break, but Bokuto refused. 

He was having the best practice of his life. Every toss, good or bad, connected with his palm and the ball released a satisfying  _ smack  _ as it connected with the wood on the other side of the net. He wasn’t about to stop now.

So he plowed ahead through the pain and sweat and finished practice along with everyone else, going home feeling better than he had in ages. But he knew he couldn’t keep practicing in sweats. He would overheat for sure. He needed a better solution.

He needed new knee pads.

 


	2. Corroborating his mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi had become quite adept at handling Bokuto’s mood swings. Usually if he ignored him for a few tosses after a negative mood swing, he would bounce right back, although sometimes he needed a little more encouragement. Apparently the rest of the team thought Akaashi was some sort of miracle worker when it came to Bokuto, because they were almost always paired together. 
> 
> Not that Akaashi minded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, first of all, I was NOT expecting this kind of response at all. I was seriously so psyched to get even ten hits so to have almost four hundred and so many kudos and even some comments...that just blows my mind. Thank you so much!
> 
> Secondly, I forgot to mention this last chapter but this is an AU where everything is the same except Karasuno is actually really close to Tokyo, so that everyone can realistically hang out together on a regular basis. Also, I have absolutely no sense of time so if the timeline seems weird, it probably is. Hopefully that doesn't become too distracting.
> 
> Thirdly, Akaashi and Kuroo finally show up! So there's quite a bit of dialogue, also Akaashi is most likely OOC...he's so hard to write!
> 
> Anyway, with that being said, please enjoy this -sort of- lighter chapter!

If anyone noticed his change of dress, they kept quiet about it. He had to admit, the thigh-high knee pads were pretty dang comfy. Sure they were a little unconventional, but the material was thin enough to keep him cool, yet thick enough to conceal his scars. No one suspected a thing. 

 

Honestly, he hadn’t really intended to do it again. It was pretty painful and a hassle to clean up. But it was just so convenient. His parents were never home so he didn’t have to worry about discovery. His new pads allowed him to hide from the team. And quite frankly, it was easier to pretend. His negative thoughts never went away, but cutting permitted some of them to be released, allowing him to strengthen his two-faced mask. With time, he was able to find a balance. He knew when to quit, how far he could go before it got too dangerous. Sometimes, if his thoughts were particularly dark, he’d wake up in bleary confusion the next morning, feeling sore and drained. However, it didn’t really frighten him. 

 

Actually, it was rather concerning how nonchalant he felt, laying in a pool of red. Usually he would panic himself into getting up, not wanting to die, not for real. But sometimes, he’d allow himself to think about the void. What happened to a soul when one’s heart stopped beating. Was there an afterlife? Or just an empty black? Was it better than this? This empty existence, where he floated aimlessly, not really having a reason to live. What was there to live for exactly?

 

_ Volleyball. _

 

_ At the very least, there is always volleyball. _

 

Somehow this thought always found it’s way to the surface, prompting him to scrape himself from the bathroom floor and pretend to live another day, until he could play again. This was how Bokuto Koutarou existed for his first year at Fukurodani Academy, balancing on the precipice of life, hanging on by the strings of his impenetrable mask. 

 

—————————————————

 

At least, he thought it was impenetrable. That is, until a certain Akaashi Keiji showed up to practice on his first day of second year. Bokuto, who was fifteen minutes early, as usual, nearly bulldozed the lanky first year in his almost-genuine excitement for the first practice in weeks.

 

Akaashi had been standing at the gym entrance, contemplating whether or not this was really worth his precious time. He should be studying instead, not wasting his hours getting sweaty just because his middle school coach thought he would get a sports recommendation. And in volleyball, at that. Sure he could make a fairly decent set, but the fact that everyone, including his parents, thought he was some sort of prodigy was absurd.

 

So, seeing as he was wrapped up in such a heated inner debate, he was wholly unprepared for the hurricane that was “normal Bokuto” who, at that very moment, was moving at top speed around the back of the gym. Bokuto, thinking he was the first to arrive, was paying absolutely zero attention to where he was going, relying on his muscle memory to take him to the hardwood floor of the court. So he was genuinely confused when he realized that yes, he had stopped moving, but no, he wasn’t in the gym. That is, until he heard a muffled groan below him.

 

“HOLY CRAP! I’M SO SORRY, ARE YOU OKAY??”

 

_ Now I’ve done it. Nice one, Bokuto. As clumsy as ever. _

 

“I’m…fine, I think. If you could please remove yourself from my person, that would be appreciated,” the voice beneath him sighed.

 

“OH! OH RIGHT! SORRY!!” Bokuto quickly scrambled away, getting a glimpse of the young man he had run over. And what a man he was. 

 

Dark curls formed a messy halo around an angular face. Large, half-lidded eyes the color of freshly-cut grass sat atop a straight nose, which jutted out over thin, soft lips. Bokuto had never seen a more beautiful person. A beautiful person whom he had completely run over. Who probably would never want to look at him again. Fantastic.

 

“Do I look strange to you? You’ve been staring for about five minutes.”

 

Bokuto shook his head as he tried to remember how to speak.

 

“NO! I, uh, I JUST, um-“

 

Akashi held up his hand. He was getting nowhere with this idiot. This gorgeous idiot with his stupid two-toned hair and his stupid golden eyes and his muscular arms-

 

No. He was not going to go there. Not today.

 

“Look, it’s fine, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

 

“BUT I-"

 

“And please stop yelling. I’m literally two feet away from you.” Akaashi inwardly grimaced. That had come out a lot ruder than he intended. That’s usually what happened though. He wasn’t very good at communication to begin with, and it only got worse when he was nervous. He didn’t mean to be standoffish, it just sort of happened. Especially when he was being stared at by lovely strangers.

 

And there he goes again. He seriously needed to reign in the gay, this was ridiculous.

 

Meanwhile, Bokuto was on the cusp of dejectedness. 

 

_ I am literally the worst person on the planet. _

 

_ This is why I don’t have any friends. _

 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just…got a little excited I guess,” Bokuto’s voice began to waver, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. 

 

_ And now I’m gonna cry. Fan-freaking-tastic. There’s no way this guy is ever gonna talk to me again. I finally found someone who made me feel something, a slight twinge of something and I’ve already completely ruined it. _

 

Akaashi was starting to panic. Normally when he was rude people would just give him a dirty look or flip him off. No one had ever cried before. Had he really been that harsh?

 

“Um, I’m sorry, that was a bit rude of me. I am…not very good at communication, and-"

 

_ No, no, no, no, no. Stop apologizing, this is my fault, not yours! _

 

“N-no, it’s not your fault. I’m just such a klutz and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. You didn’t do anything wrong!” Bokuto’s voice was gradually rising in volume as his thoughts began bubbling up like bile. His mask was slipping, past his carefully crafted emo mode into something darker. He needed out. 

 

He rose quickly and began to back away, spewing words of self-deprecation. Akaashi was hopelessly lost. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Obviously this person was upset, but it seemed to be about more than just the recent collision. Cautiously, he reached out and gripped Bokuto’s arm, halting his retreat.

 

_ No, stop! Leave me alone! I’m not worth your time! I’m an awful person, get away from me! _

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Akaashi began slowly, “Everyone runs into someone at least once, it’s…not that big of a deal. You don’t seem like that bad of a person to me.”

 

“I-I don’t?” 

 

“No,” Akaashi said carefully, stepping close enough to gently wipe the tears that had gone unchecked. “I don’t really know you, but I don’t think a bad person would cry over something like this.” Seeing Bokuto flinch, he quickly added: “Not that there’s anything wrong with crying. I, uh, well, I guess you just seem…very kind. I think. Yeah.” Damn he was awkward. But he must have done something right because the strange guy wasn’t frowning anymore. In fact, he looked almost stunned, like he couldn’t believe anyone would ever think that about him. Suddenly, Akaashi realized how close they were standing, and quickly shuffled away, letting go of Bokuto’s arm.

 

Bokuto was in shock. This person…didn’t hate him? 

 

_ He thinks I’m kind. _

 

_ Why? _

 

But before he could continue processing the situation, his teammates began showing up, and Bokuto was swept into the crowded gym, along with a slightly less reluctant Akaashi Keiji.

 

—————————————————

 

Over the next couple months, Akaashi learned a few things about Bokuto Koutarou. Firstly, that he usually only spoke in his “outdoor voice,” and he got louder depending on how excited he was. Secondly, that his hair was “completely natural,” although he highly doubted that. Thirdly, that he seemed to have two distinct moods: overly confident and excitable, or dramatically self-deprecating. He had only seen Bokuto cry once however, and that was the day they met. Since then, he had never seen him get truly upset over something. Not that it mattered, because Akaashi had become quite adept at handling Bokuto’s mood swings. Usually if he ignored him for a few tosses after a negative mood swing, he would bounce right back, although sometimes he needed a little more encouragement. Apparently the rest of the team thought Akaashi was some sort of miracle worker when it came to Bokuto, because they were almost always paired together. 

 

Not that Akaashi minded. He had never really had any close friends before, so it was kind of nice having someone to talk to on a regular basis. On top of that, there was the fact that Bokuto was pretty damn attractive. So yeah, Akaashi wasn’t complaining. 

 

Apparently Bokuto didn’t mind either, because somehow they always ended up eating lunch together, or hanging out between classes. Akaashi was beginning to think that they might even be friends. 

 

Bokuto, on the other hand, didn’t even dare to hope for a friendship with Akaashi. He was constantly on the lookout for things that Akaashi disliked about him, desperately trying to fix his flaws before they happened, waiting for the inevitable moment when Akaashi would leave him. He knew what would happen if he allowed himself to get attached. After what had happened before, he downright refused to put his trust in a guy he had known for barely two months.

 

—————————————————

 

It happened in his third year of elementary school, before everything went to shit. He had befriended the new transfer student, an energetic yet sly boy with intense bedhead. 

 

Kuroo Tetsurou.

 

Bokuto had always been a little too rowdy for the other kids, so while no one was outright rude to him, he had figured out by the tender age of nine that he didn’t quite fit in with everyone else. So he generally played alone with an old volleyball behind the school, counting down the minutes until recess was over. That is, until Kuroo came along.

 

His dad had gotten a job in Osaka, so they had moved from bustling Tokyo to the small tourist town, right in the middle of his third year. Kuroo was a clever child and was immediately liked by the teachers, and a majority of the students found him entertaining, although he seemed to have an aura of danger surrounding him; as a result, he didn’t really make any long-term friends. That changed when he stumbled upon a lonely Bokuto, quietly tossing a ball to himself. 

 

“Watcha doin’ back here?”

 

Bokuto jumped up in shock, partly because of the unexpected voice, mostly because said voice was literally two centimeters from his ear.

 

“Woah, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare ya. Name’s Kuroo. What’s yours?”

 

“Um, my name’s Bokuto,” he stated shyly.

 

“Why so quiet? You gotta speak up, otherwise people won’t acknowledge your existence!”

 

“Um, okay, but what does ‘acknowledge’ mean?”

 

“Well, hm, I think it means that people pay attention to you. People won’t talk to ya if you’re always quiet.”

 

“B-but I am loud! That’s why nobody wants to play with me. I’m too noisy,” Bokuto explained ashamedly.

 

“Nah, that’s not true! You can never be too loud! C’mon, let’s go be loud together! We’ll show the others who’s boss!” Kuroo’s grin was pretty convincing, so Bokuto agreed easily.

 

From that point on, the two were as thick as thieves, practically inseparable. Their parents figured that they must have inadvertently adopted another son; they were at each other’s houses nearly every other night. For two years the “Bro-kuto and Ku-bro” duo ran rampant, getting into all sorts of trouble, having the time of their lives. 

 

Until Kuroo disappeared.

 

Well, he didn’t disappear, per se. Apparently, his father had decided to go back to his old job in Tokyo, resulting in the family’s swift overnight departure. 

 

He didn’t even say goodbye.

 

Although his parents insisted that Kuroo must have wanted to tell Bokuto, he was convinced that his former best friend must completely hate him. Why else would he just up and leave without saying a word?

 

When his own parents brought up the idea of moving to Tokyo themselves for work a mere three months later, Bokuto retained a slight shred of hope that he would be able to see his friend again, maybe even go to the same school.

 

Of course, those hopes were completely dashed upon arrival. One awe-struck glance at the metropolis had Bokuto convinced; there was no way he would be able to find Kuroo in this concrete jungle. So he resigned himself to never seeing him again, and vowed to keep his trust to himself. 

 

—————————————————

 

Akaashi wasn’t making it very easy for him, however. Despite his collected facade, Akaashi was pretty awkward when it came to social situations, so he usually opted to remain silent. Most people thought he was cool in an aloof way, but Bokuto knew better, and that fact only made him like Akaashi more. Plus, Bokuto was pretty sure Akaashi was hands-down the prettiest person on the planet. So yeah, he  _ maybe _ had a crush on Akaashi;  _ maybe  _ he wouldn’t mind hanging out with him more.  _ Maybe _ he could even-

 

No. Absolutely not. As wonderful as he was, Bokuto knew he could never fully trust Akaashi. He had stopped trusting a long time ago, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. Besides, what would people think-what would Akaashi think-if they knew about the darkness lurking within him? What would he say if he saw the scars? 

 

He would leave him for sure, and Bokuto didn’t think he could handle that. So he would keep the glass wall he had carefully crafted between himself and Akaashi, staying close without really being close at all. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to chat on Tumblr! carissathepanda18
> 
> Third chapter in the works; should be done within the week! Thanks for everything!


	3. Cracking his mask, pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto gulped. This was bad. Not only did he have to quit volleyball, now Akaashi was royally pissed at him, which meant he was probably never going to talk to him again. Bokuto didn’t have much time to reflect on this however, because Akaashi was yelling at him again.
> 
> Well, not exactly yelling. More like pissed-off Akaashi yelling, which was much quieter and more terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I was going to try and hold off on posting this so soon but I just can't help myself! Also this chapter is LONG so I broke it up into two parts. I was going to make two totally separate chapters but I felt like both halves fit under the overall theme of the chapter so that's why it's part 1 and part 2. 
> 
> Also there is actual FLUFF in this chapter. What am I doing. I looked away for two seconds and apparently wrote this. 
> 
> Once again thank you all for your encouragement, I really appreciate it!

So far, everything was going to plan. Other than their initial meeting, Bokuto had managed to keep his emotions in check around Akaashi. Internally, however, things were only getting worse. He saw his parents even less than before, and when they did cross paths it seemed the only topic of conversation was Bokuto’s grade point average. He had always been a little behind the other kids, but not because he didn’t want to learn; he was “just a little slow” as one teacher had so tactfully pointed out. His grades were now at an all time low; he wasn’t failing-he couldn’t play volleyball if he was-but the sport took a lot of time. As a result, he had even less time for studying, and his parents were catching on. 

 

“What exactly have you been doing this whole time?” asked his mother one Saturday afternoon. “You can’t keep slacking off like this, Kou! You know your father and I have work; we can’t be here all the time forcing you to study. You need to take a little more responsibility.”

 

“I am studying,” Bokuto mumbled. “It’s just that, the material is really difficult right now, and I still don’t get it even when the teacher explains it again.”

 

“Well then go in after class and have him go over it with you privately! Honestly, Koutarou, it can’t possibly be that difficult.”

 

“I can’t go after class. I have volleyball right after and practice goes until five,” Bokuto explained, although he knew it was futile. His mother had that look that said she meant business.

 

“Well then perhaps you need to take a break from volleyball.”

 

“Mom, no! I can’t stop now, the coaches have been discussing next year’s captaincy, and I’m pretty much guaranteed the spot as long as I can keep my skill level up. If I quit I’ll lose my chance!” Bokuto knew getting upset wasn’t going to help, but he couldn’t let this happen! If there was anything in this world that kept him going, it was volleyball. Volleyball and Akaashi Keiji, who was only connected with Bokuto through volleyball. 

 

If he lost them both…

 

“I assume that you would be even busier if you became captain?” inquired his mother thoughtfully.

 

“Well, yes,” Bokuto said hesitantly. “Probably, but that doesn’t-“

 

“Then that settles it. On Monday you’re going to temporarily resign from the volleyball club and have a discussion with your teacher about how you can raise your grade. Once your grade comes back up, you can get back to your  _ playing _ . _ ” _

 

Bokuto opened his mouth, trying to say something, anything to convince her to reconsider. He was never going to be able meet her expectations; even when he was laser-focused he had never been able to fully understand mathematical equations or English grammar rules. And at this point he was so far behind, he would be lucky if he could go back to volleyball before he graduated. 

 

However, all that came out was a meek “Okay, mom.”

 

His mother nodded, satisfied. “Excellent. I’m proud of you for making the right decision.”

 

_ It wasn’t my decision to make,  _ he thought bitterly, before crumpling with another crushing realization.

 

_ How will I tell Akaashi? _

 

—————————————————

 

Apparently, he didn’t have to. When lunch rolled around on Monday, Bokuto got up to fetch Akaashi from his class as usual, only to be forcefully accosted by said person and dragged into an empty hallway.

 

“Akaashi? Wha-“

 

“Why.”

 

“Um, why what?”

 

“Why are you quitting the volleyball club, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi demanded, glaring daggers. Bokuto had never seen him this angry before. 

 

“Who told you that?”

 

“I overheard the coaches discussing it after morning practice. Which you skipped, by the way.” 

 

Bokuto gulped. This was bad. Not only did he have to quit volleyball, now Akaashi was royally pissed at him, which meant he was probably never going to talk to him again. Bokuto didn’t have much time to reflect on this however, because Akaashi was yelling at him again.

 

Well, not exactly yelling. More like pissed-off Akaashi yelling, which was much quieter and more terrifying.

 

“Here’s what I don’t understand, Bokuto-san. If you knew this was going to happen, why not, oh I don’t know,  _ text _ me about it? Before I found out from an outside source? Friends do that, you know. Of course, you have always been distant…” Akaashi looked down then, his voice starting to break. “Maybe…maybe I was the only one who thought we were friends.”

 

Bokuto’s eyes widened. Akaashi thought they were friends? 

 

Akaashi thought they were friends. Friends could hang out outside of school. He didn’t have to lose Akaashi. But he was going to if he didn’t do something about this.

 

Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s arm as he turned to leave.

 

“Akaashi, wait! I didn’t-”

 

_ I didn’t know we were friends. _

 

“I thought-”

 

_ I thought you just hung out with me out of pity. _

 

“You-"

 

_ You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. _

 

“Don’t leave me, Akaashi!” Bokuto cried, throwing his arms around the thinner boy in an attempt to keep him from moving. Plus, he was definitely crying actual tears so this way he could hide in Akaashi’s shoulder.

 

Akaashi was stunned. He hadn’t really intended on leaving, he had just turned so Bokuto wouldn’t see how hurt he was. But this…this was an interesting development. He had no idea that Bokuto cared for him so much. 

 

Actually, he was beginning to think that he knew nothing about Bokuto at all.

 

Carefully, he linked his hands behind Bokuto’s back, holding him close.

 

“I’m not leaving you, Bokuto-san,” he whispered reassuringly as a sob escaped Bokuto’s throat. The sound of it hurt Akaashi’s heart and prompted him to unclasp his hands, one of them stroking Bokuto’s back and the other threading through his ridiculous hair.

 

“Shh, don’t cry. I’m right here. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m not leaving,” Akaashi repeated, listening to Bokuto’s cries fade into soft hiccups as he calmed down. “I like you too much to leave you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whispered to himself.

 

Bokuto stiffened in his arms.

 

“You do?” he asked in disbelief, leaning back to look into Akaashi’s face, which was rapidly becoming more pale.

 

Oh.

 

Oh shit.

 

Well, now he’d done it, hadn’t he? Crap, this wasn’t supposed to happen! Bokuto was just supposed to be a friend, not to mention that he was most likely straighter than a ruler-and not the bendy kind, either.

 

And he was still staring. 

 

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asked hesitantly. “Do you really like me?”

 

He took a deep breath. He might as well see this through and get rejected so he could move on with his life.

 

“I do, Bokuto-san. I like you very much.”

 

“Me too,” Bokuto breathed in disbelief, before he could stop himself. “I like you very much, too, Akaashi."

 

_ Shit, what am I doing? _

 

_ Stop it, me! Stop this right now.  _

 

_ This is a bad idea. _

 

_ He’s going to find out. _

 

_ HE’S GOING TO FIND OUT. _

 

But for the first time in a long time, Bokuto drowned out the negative thoughts swirling in his brain and gave in to a single, positive thought:

 

_ I really want to kiss him. _

 

So he did.

 

And the best part?

 

Akaashi kissed back.

 


	4. Cracking his mask, pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I kind of...jumped him? We were childhood friends a long time ago and hadn’t spoken since, so when I saw him I just got so excited...but it was really sudden so I probably freaked him out. I’m sorry, Bokuto.” He finished with a slight edge to his voice and watery eyes, and Bokuto was shaken out of his stupor with the realization that he’d probably actually really hurt Kuroo’s feelings by running away, and had worried Akaashi and the team on top of that.
> 
> I really am the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's part two! 
> 
> I do have some ideas for the next chapter but nothing's written yet, so you'll have to wait a bit longer for that one. Also the angst is back! As well as some Brokuto/Kubro feels. 
> 
> I feel like maybe I should mention a language warning as well, because it's only going to get worse from here. Nothing too excessive, hopefully.
> 
> And once again, I really do love reading your comments. And this chapter was a bit rushed so if you notice any mistakes don't hesitate to point them out, please! Thank you guys so much for your support, it means a lot to me.

The next few weeks were difficult for Bokuto. On the one hand, he and Akaashi had started dating, which he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy about it. 

 

Of course he was. But dating Akaashi didn’t mean he stopped cutting. It didn’t automatically dissipate all the darkness lurking within him. Sometimes the stress of trying to hide from Akaashi actually made it worse.

 

On top of that, he hadn’t touched a volleyball in over three weeks, and he missed it. His grades were getting slightly better, but he had a long way to go before he could meet his parents’ standards. There was a silent pressure building up within him, and it was only a matter of time before it detonated.

 

—————————————————

 

It happened one week later at the city-wide volleyball training camp. 

 

Bokuto had done fairly well on his science test thanks to a little tutoring from Akaashi, and as a reward his parents allowed him to attend the training camp. He had decided not to quit volleyball and just take a leave of absence instead, so the coaches agreed to let him go. Bokuto hadn’t been able to go the previous year because he had gotten the flu, so this was the first time he was seeing all the Tokyo teams in the same space.

 

It was awe-inspiring, to say the least, and there was definitely some heavy competition. Bokuto was admittedly a little nervous to face off against such skilled teams, especially since he hadn’t been attending formal practice in over a month, but the thrill of playing again soon took over. 

 

It was almost as if he had never left. He was able to spike every toss sent his direction, and the miniscule grin Akaashi sent him whenever he scored a point made him feel better than ever.

 

Honestly, he should have known something was going to happen.

 

A certain something by the name of Kuroo Tetsurou.

 

—————————————————

  
  


The camp was set up tournament style, with winning teams competing against each other and losing teams running drills. Fukurodani had just won their second match of the day, and were scheduled to play against a defense-intensive team called Nekoma. Bokuto had heard rumors about their cunning captain-to-be and for a brief moment was reminded of his old childhood friend, but quickly dismissed the thought.

 

Soon it was time for the match to begin, and as Bokuto made his way to the gym, a feeling of dread began to creep over him. He couldn’t understand why; he’d been having an uncharacteristically good day so far, and hadn’t had to use his emo mode once. However, once he stepped onto the hardwood floor, he knew.

 

He was standing in the corner, making small talk with a shorter boy who seemed pretty preoccupied with his cellphone. Even from this distance, Bokuto knew it was him. He would recognize that hair anywhere. He spent two years memorizing that voice. Granted, it was deeper, and his hair slightly better styled, but it was him.

 

Kuroo must have sensed Bokuto’s stare because at that moment he glanced up, then startled in an obvious double-take, before full-on  _ sprinting _ towards Bokuto and sweeping him up in a bear hug. 

 

“BOKUTO! Dude, is that really you? Where have you been? I really missed you!”

 

Bokuto, to his credit, withheld the urge to punch him in the face.

 

_ Where have I been?  _

 

_ WHERE HAVE I BEEN?  _

 

_ You’re the one who fucking disappeared, asshole! _

 

What came out instead was an awkward: “Uh, hey Kuroo. Nice to, uh, see you too. I guess.”

 

Bokuto was trying not to panic as he untangled himself from Kuroo’s arms. He wasn’t prepared for this. Despite the years that had passed, he was still upset at him, and now so many things had happened...Bokuto wasn’t the same anymore, and he was sure Kuroo must have changed too. As much as he missed him, as much as he wanted to be friends again, it just wasn’t possible.

 

He couldn’t even fully trust his boyfriend, much less a guy he hadn’t seen in years.

 

No, he couldn’t do this. Not again. So he turned tail and ran, away from a confused Kuroo and past a concerned Akaashi, straight to the bathroom. 

 

He crouched in the locked stall, trying to focus on his breathing and calm the raging thoughts that caused his stomach to churn. 

 

_ Why did you run, Bokuto? _

 

_ Are you really that scared? _

 

_ You are such a coward. _

 

_ You should be better than this. _

 

_ You need to pull yourself together. _

 

_ If you keep acting like this, the team will reject you for sure. _

 

_ Akaashi must be so disappointed in you. _

 

_ You should just off yourself already. _

 

“No, stop,” Bokuto murmured to himself. “I don’t want this! Why am I like this?” He was trying his best to stifle his sobs but apparently wasn’t doing a very good job because in the stall next door a small voice called out to him.

 

“Um, excuse me, but are you okay?” The voice sounded sore, almost as if its owner had been crying as well.

 

“I’m...alright,” Bokuto responded, trying to calm his shaking hands. “Just...leave me be, please.”

 

“Oh, ok. I guess...I just thought that maybe you were like me. But maybe I was wrong. I’m sorry for disturbing you…” the voice faded out, but something had caught Bokuto’s attention.

 

“Like...like you? How?” He was genuinely curious. How could this stranger think they were alike at all?

 

“Well, from what you were saying, it sounded like you...hated yourself. Like you didn’t...want to live anymore.”

 

“I...suppose I do hate myself. Not all the time, but sometimes, the thoughts just...overtake me. I feel like I’m useless. Like I don’t matter. Like-”

 

“Like no one would truly miss you if you were gone?” filled in the stranger hopefully.

 

“Yes, exactly. Like I’m a waste of space.”

 

“Then we are the same, after all!” The boy sounded almost happy about it. And Bokuto felt the same. 

 

There were others who felt like him. Another person who understood. Someone he didn’t have to hide from. He could finally take off his mask, and just...be himself.

 

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied. “Say, would you want to exchange numbers? I have to go soon, but I kind of want to talk more.”

 

“Yeah, we should! Here’s mine.” The stranger slid a piece of paper under the door with numbers scrawled across it. “Feel free to text me anytime! Maybe we could even meet up again.”

 

“Yeah, I’d really like that actually.”

 

“Okay, well I need to go meet my friends, talk to you later, maybe!” With that, the stall door swung open and whoever it was left Bokuto in the bathroom, feeling a little less alone.

 

—————————————————

 

By the time he had returned to the team, they were halfway through the match with Nekoma, and from the looks of it, neither was doing particularly well. Nekoma was winning, but only by a couple points, and both teams were making stupid mistakes left and right. When they took the first set, Bokuto decided it was time to make an appearance. He put on his trademark grin and stepped onto the court.

 

“HEY HEY HEY, guess who’s back? Sorry I disappeared for a bit there, apparently my stomach hates me. But I’m back and ready for action, if-”

 

He was stopped mid-speech by an infuriated Akaashi, who promptly dragged him to the side.

 

“Where exactly have you been, Bokuto-san?”

 

“Well, like I said, my stomach-”

 

“Don’t you dare try that half-assed excuse on me, Bokuto-san. You do realize I have been trying to reach you for the past forty-five minutes?” He was looking up expectantly with piercing eyes, and Bokuto knew he was in for it. He decided then that it would be better to tell a half-truth than go with his original bold-faced lie. 

 

He never got the chance, however, because they were interrupted by none other than Kuroo himself.

 

“Um, if I could interject. Akaashi-san, was it?”

 

“You are correct, but how could you possibly have anything to do with this?” Akaashi’s patience was wearing thin, and he wasn’t feeling too good himself after worrying about Bokuto for the better part of an hour.

 

Kuroo sensed this and quickly stated: “Well, the thing is, it might be kind of my fault?” Looking at Bokuto for confirmation, and getting a blank stare in response, he added: “I kind of...jumped him? We were childhood friends a long time ago and hadn’t spoken since, so when I saw him I just got so excited...but it was really sudden so I probably freaked him out. I’m sorry, Bokuto.” He finished with a slight edge to his voice and watery eyes, and Bokuto was shaken out of his stupor with the realization that he’d probably actually really hurt Kuroo’s feelings by running away, and had worried Akaashi and the team on top of that.

 

_ I really am the worst _ .

 

“Well, I was pretty shocked,” he began, finally meeting Kuroo’s eyes. “It’s just that we were so close and you suddenly disappeared on me, without so much as a phone call, and I just...it really hurt you know? So for you to act like nothing had happened, it...well, I wasn’t really prepared for it.” He bit his lip, trying to keep Kuroo’s gaze, but failing when he felt himself tearing up.

 

Kuroo, for his part, felt like the biggest jerk on the planet. Of course Bokuto had reacted that way, anyone would. But that didn’t change the fact that he missed him and wanted to make amends.

 

“You’re right, that was so stupid of me. I’m really, really sorry, Bo.” At the mention of his nickname, the tears began to trickle down, and Bokuto quickly swiped at them, but not before Akaashi saw. 

 

He hated it when Bokuto cried. He was the type that should always be smiling. Wanting to stop his tears, Akaashi quickly wrapped Bokuto in an embrace and patted his head, glaring daggers at Kuroo. He was just about to launch into another scolding when Bokuto’s quivering voice spoke up once more.

 

“It’s, it’s okay. I’m not really mad, I just...missed you so much! A-a-and I could have tried harder to communicate with you too, so it’s partly my fault…”

 

“No! No, this is my bad, Bokuto, not yours. And I really missed you, too! You’re my best bro, ya know?”

 

The last of Bokuto’s tears ran their course and dried on his cheeks, as he smiled at Kuroo.

 

A real, genuine, bona-fide Bokuto smile. A smile Akaashi had never seen before.

 

“Ya, best bros forever right?”

 

“Totally, dude!” Kuroo grinned brightly back at him and the two high-fived enthusiastically.

 

Seeing that Bokuto and the Nekoma blocker had apparently made up, the coaches called for the game to resume, and Bokuto ran forward excitedly, with a thoughtful Akaashi trailing behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho ho, the boys are back in town! And there's a new character~~ 
> 
> I hope you guys are excited for the next chapter, I can't wait to write it. See you next time!


	5. Crumbling his mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My fault. 
> 
> Maybe I…
> 
> “KOUTAROU.”
> 
> “...really do deserve to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a hard chapter to write, because I knew where I wanted to go but didn't know how to get there. So yeah, it took me awhile to write. But on the bright side, this fic has (almost) breached 10,000 words. WTF. And I definitely have a better idea for the next chapter so it shouldn't take as long to update. But anyway, thank you all so much for reading. It really means so much to me.
> 
> That being said, prepare for the angst!
> 
> ((WARNING: Bokuto's thoughts get really dark this chapter (i.e.-panic attack situation occurs), also self-harming is mentioned but not described in detail like before))

Bokuto took a deep breath. 

 

And then another. 

 

And another. 

 

He felt like he was suffocating. He tried to clear his thoughts, to push the seeping darkness back into the recesses of his troubled mind, but they were relentless. 

 

_ What a fuckup. _

 

_ It was a perfect toss. _

 

_ What the hell happened? _

 

_ It should have been easy. _

 

_ Akaashi is always covering your ass. _

 

_ He’s gonna get tired of it. _

 

_ Tired of you. _

 

_ Why are you even dating? _

 

_ You don’t deserve him. _

 

_ Just break up already. _

 

“No,” he choked out. Was he crying? He couldn’t tell. 

 

He didn’t understand why this was happening. School had been normal. His grades were improving, even. Practice was fine, his performance average. But for some reason he could only focus on his mistakes. He had turned on his “emo mode” three separate times to keep the darkness at bay, but it wasn’t working. He could tell that it bothered the team, even Akaashi looked more annoyed than usual. 

 

He couldn’t do this to them; he couldn’t keep slowing them down like this.

 

Which is why he now found himself in the storage closet, trying to calm a raging panic attack. 

 

Why did this have to happen now, of all times? His parents had finally  _ finally  _ let him play again, only to be stopped by his stupid-ass brain. 

 

It was just  _ so stupid _ . 

 

_ What do I do? _

 

_ What can I do to stop this? _

 

At that moment, his phone started buzzing on the floor in front of him. He stared at it blankly with glazed eyes, willing it to stop ringing. It was probably Akaashi, coming to retrieve him again. It had only happened a couple times before, but Bokuto had been able to dodge any serious interrogation. This time he wasn’t sure what he would say, if Akaashi found him here, lost in his own inky black mind. How could he explain this? 

 

The phone was still ringing. He took another breath. It was becoming easier. The pain in his chest a bit more manageable. Deciding to trust his voice, he gripped the phone in his trembling hands and pressed  _ Enter _ .

 

“Bokuto-san?” The small voice inquired hesitantly. Relief softly ebbed over Bokuto. 

 

It wasn’t Akaashi, thank god. 

 

“Hello,” he replied in an equally small voice. “How are you?”

 

“N-not good, Bokuto-san. I th-think I might have overdone it a bit.”

 

Bokuto immediately sat up, momentarily forgetting about his receding panic.

 

“What happened?” he asked, concern causing his voice to raise a bit in volume.

 

“I-I tried it...c-cutting, I mean. The way you do it, w-w-with a razor b-blade,” his voice was becoming more shallow as he tried to explain, “I did it on my leg like you showed me, but, I th-think I cut too d-deep? I-it won’t stop bleeding! It hurts! What do I do?”

 

Bokuto felt his mouth run dry as the panic came back full force. 

 

“I know it hurts,” he answered, willing his voice to  _ stop fucking shaking _ .

 

“I know it hurts but you need to calm down. Take deep breaths.”

 

He waited a couple seconds and listened as the breathing on the other end slowly began to even out. 

 

“Okay, you need to try and put as much pressure as possible on it-”

 

“I-I’m doing that! It won’t stop!”

 

“Okay, okay, I understand. Where are you?”

 

“My house, but no one’s home right now.”

 

“Okay, I’m going to call an ambulance for you. Hang in there, I’ll be right back!” 

 

“O-okay. I’m scared, Bokuto-san.”

 

“I know, it’ll be okay, just give me a minute.” Bokuto hung up and hurriedly punched in the emergency number, informing the dispatcher of the situation and giving her the address. He immediately called him back, praying that he wasn’t already unconscious.

 

“Bokuto-san?” 

 

_ Thank god. _

 

“I’m so glad you didn’t pass out. The ambulance is on its way.”

 

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. I-I know I should’ve just thrown up like usual, b-but my brain wouldn’t shut up a-and I just thought it would help if I….” he trailed off, and Bokuto was afraid he had fainted.

 

“DON’T FALL ASLEEP!” 

 

“I didn’t…”

 

“Good, just stay awake, okay? Help is on the way, just don’t fall asleep!”

 

They continued talking for another minute before Bokuto could hear the sirens through the speaker.

 

“They’re here, I’m gonna hang up now,” the voice was barely above a whisper at this point. 

 

_ He’s lost a lot of blood. _

 

“Okay. Call if you need anything else.” Bokuto hung up the call and tried to stand, but his legs were numb from shock and adrenaline, so he just weakly collapsed against the wall instead. 

 

Or he would have, if he hadn’t been caught by lean, strong arms.

 

Very familiar arms that connected to a very familiar neck, which lead up to a very familiar, curly-haloed head.

 

Fuck.

 

“A-akaashi?”

 

_ Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit-  _

 

“Deep breaths, Bokuto-san.” He looked so calm, but Bokuto could see the concern hidden deep in his eyes. Of course he would be, Bokuto had been gone for a significant amount of time. 

 

The more pressing concern was-

 

“Who was that on the phone, Bokuto-san?”

 

That.

 

_ Fuck, how much did he hear? _

 

“Um, just a friend of mine.”

 

“That sounded like a serious call. Is everything alright? What happened?”

 

Bokuto hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But, on the bright side, this was distracting Akaashi from the fundamental issue, so he’d take it.

 

“Well he uh,” How should he word this? “He has some...mental issues, and I guess he hurt himself. But he took it too far and I had to call an ambulance…” Bokuto bit his lip, hoping to every deity to ever exist that Akaashi would buy it without prying further.

 

No such luck. 

 

“Has he done this before?” Akaashi’s forehead was crinkling as a frown began to tug at his features. Bokuto didn’t like where this was going. But he couldn’t lie, not to his face.

 

“Well, he’s never cut before, but he has a lot of self-esteem issues. He’s short, and not super smart, but still smarter than me-”

 

“You’re very smart, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interjected.

 

Bokuto forced a smile. “Thanks, Akaashi.”

 

“So, he doesn’t like himself? Is that why?” Akaashi prompted.

 

“Well, he’s also been stressed out because he wants to participate in the junior high volleyball tournament but his school doesn’t really have a team. I’ve played with him a couple times, and he’s actually really good, it’s just tough without a team…” Bokuto took a breath before continuing carefully.

 

“I think he might actually have an eating disorder...he usually forces himself to throw up when he gets upset.”

 

“That sounds very serious, Bokuto-san. Did you not say anything to him? To anyone?” Akaashi was getting more upset. Calm, collected Akaashi looked genuinely worried.

 

_ I need to be careful here. _

 

_ He cannot find out. _

 

“I didn’t. I...thought maybe if I talked to him, I could help…”

 

_ Okay, not a complete lie. _

 

_ We’ll just leave out the important stuff. _

 

“I should’ve said something…” 

 

_ Wait. _

 

“This is my fault, isn’t it?” Bokuto hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but apparently he had because soon he was back in those arms, Akaashi’s hands in his hair.

 

“That’s not what I meant, Bokuto-san. You couldn’t have known he would do this.”

 

It should have been comforting, being cradled in his boyfriend’s arms. 

 

It wasn’t. 

 

Bokuto felt dirty. Guilty.

 

_ But I did know. _

 

“You don’t understand! I-”

 

_ I taught him that. _

 

_ It’s my fault. _

 

_ IT’S MY FAULT. _

 

“Bokuto-san?”

 

He really was crying now.

 

_ What have I done? _

 

_ How could I let this happen? _

 

“Bokuto-san, please calm down!”

 

_ I’m despicable. _

 

_ The worst. _

 

_ The absolute worst. _

 

“Bokuto-san!”

 

_ My fault. _

 

_ It’s my fault. _

 

_ All my fault. _

 

“BOKUTO-SAN!”

 

Akaashi didn’t know the meaning of panic until this moment. He had never raised his voice like this, why wasn’t Bokuto responding? He was sobbing and muttering uncontrollably, and no amount of shaking or yelling would bring him out of it.

 

_ My fault.  _

 

_ Maybe I… _

 

“KOUTAROU.”

 

“...really do deserve to die.”

 

“What?” Had he heard that correctly?

 

“Bokuto-san, what did you say?”

 

“Akaashi, did you just call me by my first name?”

 

“I did, but-”

 

“AKAASHI!!” Bokuto threw his arms around his boyfriend, hoping it would cover his slip up.

 

“Please answer me, Bokuto-san. What did you say just now?”

 

He didn’t miss the way Bokuto stiffened in his arms. 

 

“It doesn’t matter-”

 

“It does.” Akaashi didn’t want to be strict with Bokuto, especially now, but he wasn’t just going to let it go, either. Something was wrong, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

 

“Please tell me, Koutarou.”

 

“I...s-said...maybe...I deserve to die. B-because it’s my fault-”

 

“It isn’t! It’s not your fault, Bokuto-san. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that-”

 

“IT IS. It is my fault, Akaashi. I...showed him how...how to c-cut.” 

 

_ Stop.  _

 

_ Don’t you dare. _

 

_ Nothing else. _

 

_ DON’T TELL HIM ANYTHING ELSE. _

 

“You...you’ve hurt yourself?” Akaashi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not Bokuto. Not his Koutarou.

 

“I have…”

 

“Where.”

 

“Akaashi, I-”

 

“Show me, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi demanded, before adding on a quiet “please.”

 

Bokuto took a deep breath, but he couldn’t keep from trembling. This was it. Akaashi would see the scars and turn tail. 

 

He was terrified. But he was caught. So he reached down for the umpteenth time and carefully rolled down the peculiar knee pads.

 

He hadn’t done it in a couple weeks, so there weren’t any bandages this time. As he removed the protective gear, he felt the piercing gaze of his companion. When he was done, he forced himself to meet it, and got the shock of his life.

 

Huge crystalline tears were streaming down his face. He was a silent, beautiful crier. Bokuto was captivated and devastated all at once.

 

“Koutarou,” he breathed out as he reached out gingerly, tracing the ugly pink that lined his perfect thighs. “Why…”

 

“It started in elementary school. I’ve always been loud and not very smart, so the other kids didn’t want to play with me. Then Kuroo came along, and everything was fine, but then he l-left…” 

 

Akaashi took his face in his hands, kissing his forehead, even though his tears weren’t showing any signs of stopping.

 

“Please continue, Bokuto-san.”

 

Bokuto nodded.

 

“So after Kuroo left, we moved a few months after and my parents had to work more. I was bad at making friends so I was by myself. A lot. Then in middle school I found volleyball and that was the first time...the first time I felt useful. Like I could actually do it, and I was good at it. I...was so excited to tell my parents, because I thought they’d be proud of me, b-but….” his voice cracked with emotion, but his tears had run out. “But they weren’t. They said I should be spending more time on my schoolwork. It discouraged me, but I didn’t quit because I felt...kinda happy, you know? So I kept trying. I e-even...even practiced smiling and laughing, so that I could get along with my teammates, but I still got sad a lot. So I started acting dramatic regardless of my mood, because that way, at least...at least they wouldn’t find out about...about this.”

 

“I didn’t start cutting until last year. I didn’t really mean to, I just…it just sort of happened. And it did help me feel better, so I figured if I was careful, I didn’t need help. But then, I saw Kuroo at the camp and I just...totally relapsed. That’s when I met my friend, and we found out we had some things in common, so we started talking more and...well, he asked me for advice ‘cause he was getting worse and, I...it helped me, so I thought...I didn’t...I didn’t know how dangerous it was, I guess.” 

 

Akaashi didn’t know what to think. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt. They were supposed to be dating, right? Why was he just learning this now?

 

But there would be time for that later. 

 

“Have you been keeping this all to yourself this whole time?” he asked in disbelief.

 

“Yes, I thought…” 

 

“Tell me, Koutarou. No more secrets, okay? You can tell me anything.”

 

“I thought you would leave me if you found out.”

“Koutarou-”

 

“And I don’t blame you for wanting to. No one wants to be around someone this messed up, right?” Bokuto laughed dryly to himself, but his eyes were lifeless. 

 

Akaashi hated it. 

 

He hated that Bokuto thought that about him. He wished he could reach into his head and rip out the negative black eating away at Bokuto. 

 

But he couldn’t.

 

He couldn’t fix Bokuto.

 

Not by himself, anyway.

 

“First of all, I’m not leaving you. I told you this, remember?”

 

“Yes, but-”

 

“Secondly, you aren’t messed up. This is an illness, Bokuto-san. A physical illness you can’t control. It isn’t your fault that you have to deal with this. What  _ is  _ your fault is not telling anyone about it and letting it get so out of hand. I’m a little upset you didn’t say something sooner, but I’m so glad you told me now. But, I’m not the one who can help you, Koutarou. I...think you need to talk to a professional about this.”

 

Bokuto was frozen in place, but his insides were in overdrive.

 

_ Professional? _

 

_ Like a therapist? _

 

_ Psychologist? _

 

_ No, no I couldn’t! _

 

_ What will my parents think? _

 

_ I won’t be able to play volleyball anymore. _

 

But, like so many times before, his lips formed the words Akaashi wanted to hear.

 

“Okay, I’ll talk to someone, Akaashi.”

 

And as usual, Akaashi fell for it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well he's not dead. But the angst train rolls on! Also, thank you ironicxanimexusername on tumblr for helping me brainstorm! Go check her out!


	6. Consigning his mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >>TRIGGER WARNING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves.
> 
> ((THIS IS THE WORST CHAPTER OF THE WHOLE FIC. If you thought the last chapters were triggering you should probably skip this chapter. You can read the next chapters without reading this one-it should still make sense))

He tried.

 

He really did.

 

But as the months passed, he could only sink further into his own poisoned mind, powerless against the raging hate within him.

 

He went to therapy sessions once a week, without his parents’ knowledge. Did the mental exercises he was taught when he was feeling bad. Wrote down his thoughts instead of cutting. 

 

But it wasn’t working. He needed medication, but he couldn’t get any without his parents’ approval, and that just wasn’t going to happen. 

 

So he faked it.

 

He found himself slowly getting better at lying. He cheated his way through the rest of second year and the first few months of his final year. He was made captain of the volleyball team by popular vote, so he must be fooling the team well enough. His parents were completely clueless, as usual. 

 

And for some reason, Akaashi seemed to buy it, too. Kuroo was harder to fool, so Bokuto made sure to hang out with him only on his “good days,” but those were few and far between. 

 

He knew he didn’t look good. He wasn’t eating as much as usual, and he couldn’t sleep either, plagued by his toxic thoughts. He didn’t miss the concerned look Kuroo gave him one Saturday afternoon, in the middle of his third year. They were wandering aimlessly in a park near Kuroo’s place, to “get some fucking sun” as Kuroo put it. He certainly had a way with words. 

 

“Hey, Bo?”

 

“Yeah, what’s up?” 

 

Bokuto hadn’t really wanted to see him today. The night before had been rough, worse than usual. Violent thoughts attacked his exhausted brain, and no matter what he did, they wouldn’t go away. He felt like he was slowly suffocating, though he was sure taking in a lungful of water would be less painful than this. He had wanted to cut, but his parents were downstairs, arguing about finances and where he would go to college. Background noise, but he couldn’t risk discovery. 

 

So he sat in his personalized hell and allowed the black to seep into his being, but refusing to close his eyes, wasting away in the quiet of night.

 

Kuroo noticed the dark circles immediately. He could tell Bokuto didn’t want to be here, but it had been three weeks since he’d heard from him and he was growing more uneasy by the minute. He texted Akaashi on a daily basis, trying to glean as much information as possible from him, but Akaashi couldn’t get much out of Bokuto these days. He briefly wondered how they were still in a relationship; it was obvious that Bokuto was lying about feeling better, and Akaashi’s patience wasn’t boundless. But if anyone could make it, he supposed these two could, somehow.

 

For Bokuto’s sake, he hoped they would.

 

“Bo, be honest with me for a second,” Kuroo could usually tell when Bokuto was lying, but he would prefer it if he didn’t have to squeeze the information out of him. “Did you sleep last night? At all?”

 

“Off and on,” was the curt reply.

 

Yeah. Today was not a good day.

 

“I thought you were on meds for that?”

 

He wasn’t. He wasn’t on anything, but Kuroo didn’t need to know that.

 

“I ran out. Gotta get it refilled.”

 

“Right...Bo, your parents, do they know how bad it is?” Kuroo figured they had to know  _ something _ , there’s no way they could be that negligent.  

 

“They know I have trouble sleeping, that’s about it.”

 

Kuroo was growing more uneasy by the second. He couldn’t tell if Bokuto was telling the truth or not. His face was expressionless, his voice even. Calm, almost, and tired. Very tired.

 

“Bokuto, have you...hurt yourself? Recently, I mean.” 

 

He remembered the day Bokuto showed him his scars for the first time. It was a couple weeks after Akaashi found out. They had been acting strange, and eventually Kuroo dragged it out of them. He’d been shocked, and angry. What the hell happened? Where did his energetic, sunshine-loving Bokuto run off to? When was he replaced by this...this  _ husk _ of a person?

 

Something was very, very wrong. Kuroo felt like he was on the edge of something dark and dangerous, and he was grossly unprepared for it.

 

“I haven’t, not for two weeks.”

 

“You’ve been going to your meetings?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Did...did something else happen? That I don’t know about?” He didn’t understand. Why wasn’t he getting any better? Wasn’t there medication for this? 

 

“I’m fine, Kuroo.” Bokuto hated this. He hated lying to his best friend, but he didn’t dare tell him how bad it really was. His parents already thought he was a disappointment. What would they say if they knew how fucking insane he actually was? Would they be shocked? Would they even care?

 

Did...did anyone care?

 

“No, you’re not, Bo! You fucking...you look awful, okay? I know you haven’t been sleeping well and you haven’t eaten much, either! And, fuck, Bo what the hell am I supposed to do? Isn’t there something...anything I can do for you?! I just-”

 

“SHUT UP! Just shut up, Kuroo! You don’t know a fucking thing!”

 

“Well, maybe I would if you would stop lying to me! Why won’t you tell me what’s really going on?” Kuroo didn’t cry often, but he was reaching his breaking point. He cared about Bokuto more than his own family, why didn’t he trust him?

 

“Don’t...don’t you trust me, Bo?”

 

“Fine. You wanna know what’s wrong, Kuroo? It’s this!” Bokuto pressed his palms to his throbbing head, trying to drive out the demons that had taken up residence there. “It’s this stupid fucking head! It won’t shut up, Kuroo! No matter what happens, no matter what I do, IT DOESN’T STOP.”

 

“Bo-”

 

“You don’t  _ know _ , Kuroo! You have no idea the things it says to me, the hell I go through  _ every. Fucking. Night.  _ Constantly reminding me how fucking worthless I am. How much better everything would be, if I was gone. How,” Bokuto swallowed thickly as the familiar wetness poured out of his sockets, “how I should just hurry up and die so you don’t have to deal with me anymore.”

 

“Bokuto,” Kuroo was sobbing now. How could this happen? Why was this happening? What the hell was he supposed to  _ do _ !?

 

“Bokuto, god, I had no idea…”

 

“Of course you didn’t. I made sure you didn’t.” Bokuto took a deep breath. This was so selfish of him, dumping everything on Kuroo like this. He needed to end this, now, before he hurt Kuroo. It was senseless to drag others down with him when there was nothing they could do to help.

 

“I’m...I am so, so sorry for dragging you into this. You’re an awesome person, Kuroo. You deserve so much more than this.”

 

“Bokuto, what the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Kuroo, I...think it’s better if we stop hanging out-”

 

“Bokuto-” Kuroo didn’t even know what was going on at this point. But he didn’t like where it was going. At all.

 

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Kuroo. But you don’t have to do it anymore. You can stop pretending to care about me.”

 

“Bo-”

 

“Goodbye, Kuroo.” Bokuto glanced at his best friend’s face one last time, and ran.

 

It felt like everything was happening in slow motion for Kuroo. His wit had apparently abandoned ship, because all he could do when Bokuto uttered that simple phrase was stand and stare. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. By the time his brain caught up to him, it was too late. Bokuto had disappeared down the bustling Tokyo streets.

 

His first instinct was to call Akaashi. When dealing with Bokuto, Akaashi knew best. He listened to the steady ringing, praying that he would pick up the goddamn phone.

 

“Kuroo-san?”

 

“A-akaashi, something happened…” He felt like he could pass out at any moment, and it showed in his voice.

 

“What’s wrong, Kuroo-san? You don’t sound well.” Sirens were wailing in Akaashi’s brain. Every ounce of his being was screaming that something was wrong. 

 

And it probably had something to do with Bokuto, if Kuroo was acting like this. 

 

“It’s Bokuto…”

 

Of course it was.

 

“He...he was a-acting weird. More than usual. I was...trying to get him to talk. Well, he  _ did _ talk, but...then he, he just...ran off. He said,” Kuroo almost couldn’t bring himself to say it. It hurt so much. But Akaashi needed to know. 

 

“He said that I c-could s-stop pretending, Akaashi. L-like, he doesn’t think I care about him, or something! A-and...I was just so shocked. I, I couldn’t  _ do _ anything, Akaashi! I just...let him leave…”

 

Akaashi didn’t know what he was expecting, but this was worse. Much worse.

 

“Did he mention anything particularly concerning?”

 

“W-what do you mean?”

 

“Did he say anything about dying, or not wanting to exist?”

 

“He...said goodbye. Like he wasn’t expecting to see me again…” Kuroo trailed off as the realization hit him like a bus.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“Kuroo-san,” Akaashi felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

 

“We...we need to find him, Akaashi. Now.” 

 

“Tell me where you are, I’ll meet you there.”

 

—————————————————

 

Bokuto didn’t know where he was going, only that he was moving fast. His lungs were on fire and his legs were so, so sore. But he kept moving, spurred ahead by the nightmare he called a brain.

 

_ Do it. _

 

The voice that was once just a quiet whisper was now pounding in his ears. He barely registered the city sounds whirring past his eardrums, concentrating on the beast within.

 

_ Do it. _

 

_ Do it.  _

 

_ DO IT. _

 

_ DO IT! _

 

_ They don’t need you.  _

 

_ They don’t want you. _

 

_ They won’t miss you. _

 

_ Don’t you want it to be over? _

 

_ Don’t you want to stop this hopeless charade? _

 

He was vaguely aware of his cell phone buzzing relentlessly in his pocket. He gripped it tightly and for the briefest of moments wondered if Akaashi would miss him. But the thought was quickly swallowed up by the churning demons in his cranium, and he tossed the phone into the street as he ran, not seeing the name that flashed across the front.

 

Somehow, he ended up at his lonely house. He was surprised; his parents were supposed to be home for the weekend. Well, it was probably for the best. He wouldn’t be interrupted this way. He raced upstairs to his room, not seeing the note on the kitchen counter.

 

He tore through the box hidden under his bed. This was his biggest secret, known only by one other. Filled to the brim with letters.

 

Practice letters, he called them. He rifled through them frantically, searching for  _ the one _ , the masterpiece he’d written after a fight with Akaashi, when he first thought he might actually do it. Akaashi had called him soon after, and they made up, but Bokuto kept the letter for future reference. 

 

Upon finding it, he quickly stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket, along with the nylon cord that had been buried at the bottom of the box.

 

He had stuffed the box back under his bed when he heard the familiar chime of the doorbell, accompanied by frantic knocks. 

 

“BOKUTO-SAN!”

 

Thank god he had remembered to lock it, although it wouldn’t take long for them to find the spare key.

 

Quietly he made his way down the hall to the bathroom. The shower curtain rod was fairly high up, and mounted to the wall. It would suit his purpose just fine.

 

“BOKUTO KOUTAROU, OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!”

 

Bokuto raised his eyebrow at that. Akaashi didn’t swear very often. He looped the cord around the rod, making sure it was secure.

 

“KOUTAROU, PLEASE!” 

 

He formed another loop, a slipknot, and stepped up onto the edge of the tub.

 

Surprisingly, he wasn’t afraid. In fact, this was the calmest he’d ever been. For once, the voices in his head were completely silent. 

 

He took a deep breath and heard the crash of the front door being opened with a great deal of force. 

 

“KOUTAROU!”

 

The sound of feets slamming up the stairs. 

 

The slow beat of his heart. 

 

He closed his eyes.

 

And let himself fall into the black.

 

—————————————————

 

 **From Akaashi:** _Please answer your phone, Bokuto-san._

 

 **From Kuroo:** _Bo, please call me back._

 

—————————————————

 

_ Koutarou- _

 

_ If you see this, please call me. Your friends just contacted me saying that you’ve gone missing. Your father and I are looking for you. We love you, very much. _

 

_ -Mom. _

 

—————————————————

—————————————————

 

_ To anyone who finds this- _

 

_ First of all, I’m sorry you had to see me like this. It probably isn’t very pleasant. In fact, I’m sure it’s a huge inconvenience. I’m sorry.  _

 

_ For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this darkness lurking inside me. I didn’t know what it was at first. I would just feel sad all the time, even if nothing bad had happened. I was confused, because I could see everyone around me, smiling and living happily, but I didn’t know how or why. I didn’t know what it felt like to have “joy” or “peace.”  _

 

_ I figured that I must be different from everyone else, that I must be abnormal, so I tried to hide it. I purposely acted loudly and confidently, because I was ashamed. I felt like I had to keep it to myself. However, as time went on, it got harder and harder to act “normally.” There would be times where I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like I was being choked by my own thoughts. It was terrifying, but what scared me most was that people would find out. I felt like I had to work twice as hard as everyone else just to get people to talk to me, and I didn’t want to lose all of my hard work just because I couldn’t feel. _

 

_ So I continued to hide behind the mask I’d created. I learned how to smile convincingly, and how to cry believably. I acted as dramatically as possible, to perfectly perform this play I’d written for myself. But the truth is, I didn’t feel a thing. The only thing I knew was the blackness in my mind. _

 

_ Later on, I did pick up a few inklings of emotion, such as hurt and love, but the strongest was guilt. _

 

_ Guilt for being alive in the first place. For causing problems for my parents. For being a burden to the people I called friends. For thinking I could possibly matter in this big, wide world. _

 

_ I would like to believe that I really did love my boyfriend, friends, teammates, and parents. I would like to believe they loved me back.  _

 

_ But I would also like to believe they didn’t. Because all I’ve ever done is hurt them.  _

 

_ And so I hope that somehow, my death can atone for this hurt I’ve caused. And if, by some twist of fate, anyone does miss me, just know that I am finally at peace, floating in the dark vastness of my soul. _

 

_ Best regards, and sincerest apologies, _

_ Bokuto Koutarou. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for all of your wonderful comments. I can hardly believe the response this fic has gotten. 
> 
> Also, the story's not over yet, so hang in there. Thank you for reading.


	7. Ciphering his mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi mentally beat himself to a pulp for not noticing sooner. How could he have missed this? Everyone always told him he knew Bokuto best, but...did he?
> 
> Did anyone know Bokuto, the real Bokuto, the one who hid in the dark recesses of his mind?
> 
> The one who hid behind a Cheshire grin, and crocodile tears?
> 
> A thought briefly crossed Akaashi’s mind, and he reached for Bokuto’s phone, which had miraculously been found and returned to his parents. 
> 
> There might be one person who knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one's not quite as rough as the last one (I am kind of sorry about that. Sort of.) but there are mentions of vomiting/self-harming, and like one mention of overdose. Also talk of suicide, but hopefully that's not a surprise at this point. So yeah, if any of these things bother you, be warned! 
> 
> ALSO: I really should have said this sooner, but in no way am I trying to promote self-harming/suicide as response to mental illness. If you are struggling please get help from a medical professional. As much as I love writing angst, I never want people to hurt themselves or upset themselves over a fic. So please be cautious if you're feeling down and maybe don't read this if you're having a bad day. 
> 
> That being said, please enjoy this chapter, I believe the next one will be the last, if everything pans out the way I want it to.

Akaashi stared long and hard at the crumpled note in his hands, wishing he could go back in time and figure out where he went wrong. What he could have done differently. If there was any possible way he could have prevented this. 

 

His mind kept replaying Saturday’s scene on a loop. 

 

The phone call.

 

The running.

 

The helpless screaming as Kuroo broke the door down.

 

More running, up a seemingly endless flight of stairs.

 

An unlocked bathroom door.

 

Screaming...

 

And Bokuto.

 

His Koutarou. 

 

It happened so quickly, there was nothing they could do. The emergency operator told them not to move him, so they sat in ten minutes of haunting silence, unable to leave the cold linoleum, unable to look away.

 

When the ambulance arrived, Kuroo offered to stay behind and wait for his parents so that Akaashi could ride along, although there wasn’t really any need to.

 

He had died immediately.

 

It was now Monday morning, and Akaashi hadn’t slept once. All he could do was sit, and stare. 

 

Stare at that goddamn note they had found shoved in Bokuto’s pocket. It had obviously been previously written; proofread, drafted. It didn’t even  _ sound _ like him.  _ His _ Bokuto would never talk like that; that wasn’t the Bokuto he knew!

 

Did he...did he even know Bokuto at all?

 

Akaashi went through a mental checklist of everything he had learned about his boyfriend.

 

Name: Bokuto Koutarou.

 

Favorite color: Yellow (“It’s such a happy color, Akaashi!”).

 

Favorite animal: Owl, that was easy.

 

Favorite activity: Volleyball.

 

The list went on, but it did nothing to ease Akaashi’s aching heart. He was beginning to wonder if Bokuto had really enjoyed any of these things, or if these trivial facts were nothing more than little white lies on his heaping pile of half-truths. Little snippets of made up characteristics, meant to make him look “normal” or perhaps to appease Akaashi into thinking he was fine.

 

And it worked. 

 

Akaashi mentally beat himself to a pulp for not noticing sooner. How could he have missed this? Everyone always told him he knew Bokuto best, but...did he?

 

Did  _ anyone _ know Bokuto, the  _ real _ Bokuto, the one who hid in the dark recesses of his mind?

 

The one who hid behind a Cheshire grin, and crocodile tears?

 

A thought briefly crossed Akaashi’s mind, and he reached for Bokuto’s phone, which had miraculously been found and returned to his parents. 

 

There might be one person who knew.

 

One person who held the answers to Bokuto’s jumbled psyche. 

 

The challenge would be hunting him down.

 

—————————————————

 

It turned out to be a fairly simple task, because said person showed up at the funeral the very next day.

 

Despite the large gathering of friends and acquaintances, it was so eerily quiet. Akaashi felt like he was suffocating in fake smiles and condolences. But he was on a mission, so he calmly threaded through the crowd as his eyes scanned for the young man that held the key to Bokuto’s treasure trove of secrets.

 

He was leaning against a wall, pressed against a dark-haired boy who looked fairly uncomfortable, although, Akaashi mused, he tended to look like that in most situations. The pair was conversing quietly with Kuroo and his boyfriend, Kenma-san. A few more boys, who Akaashi recognized from Karasuno High School, were standing nearby, looking pretty out of it. The news must have been a shock to them, it had been a shock to everyone.

 

Everyone but one. 

 

Akaashi inhaled deeply, preparing himself for what was most likely going to be an unpleasant conversation. He’d have to do this carefully, the boy’s teammates probably had no idea of his involvement. Hell, Akaashi hadn’t even known and he was Bokuto’s boyfriend! Quietly, he approached the group and cleared his throat.

 

“Um, pardon me?”

 

The group stopped talking and turned their attention to him. Kuroo and Kenma automatically appeared at his side.

 

“Akaashi, thank goodness, are you alright?”

 

“How are you doing, Keiji?”

 

“Um, I’m fine, thank you. Actually, I need to speak with someone…” he trailed off as his courage failed him. He never had been good at social interactions, after all.

 

He forced his gaze up to meet large, brown orbs. They stared back knowingly.

 

Then, in a reserved voice, Hinata Shouyou answered:

 

“I think I’m the one you’re looking for, Akaashi-san.”

 

—————————————————

 

“It started my second year of middle school, at the all-city volleyball training camp. I had come to watch the high school teams, to get a feel for where I might want to go. I wasn’t feeling very well, and had locked myself in the bathroom. That was when I met Bokuto-san for the first time. Well, I didn’t know who he was at first, but I heard him crying and muttering to himself. It sounded a bit like a panic attack, so I called out to him, to make sure he was okay. 

 

He didn’t really want to talk at first, but eventually we realized…” Hinata bit his lip, not really wanting to divulge his personal struggles to his team, who had somehow gathered in the small corner at the edge of the living room around Akaashi and himself, but he pressed on anyway. 

 

“We realized that we had similar struggles; that we could help each other out. So we exchanged numbers, and I left to rejoin my friends.

 

Soon, I got a text. It said: ‘Hey, this is Bokuto, from the bathroom. Are you free to talk?’ And I replied with my name and we started talking. He told me about his emptiness. About how he tried to feel, but the only feeling he could pick up was pain. I...related to how he felt. Gradually we talked more and more, until eventually we started...meeting up.

 

At first, we tried to help each other feel better. Tried to encourage each other, told each other that we’d be fine, that everything would be okay, but...pretty soon, that got really difficult to do. I...wasn’t in a very good place. I actually...forced myself to throw up a lot. I hated the way I looked and I felt worthless. Bokuto hated himself too, but for different reasons. 

 

He felt empty, like he wasn’t really living, just existing. He didn’t understand emotions or how they worked, he only knew that he wasn’t ‘normal’...he used that word a lot. 

 

We slowly started trying to cope with physical means, instead of telling ourselves it would get better. I...would crouch by the toilet puking while he cut. Then we’d sit and cry. He’d always say that he didn’t understand tears, that he didn’t understand their function, because he didn’t  _ feel _ anything when he cried.

 

But...there  _ were  _ select things that made him...react. Things that made him feel normal. That made him... _ human _ . You were one of those things, Akaashi-san.” Hinata paused and looked into Akaashi’s eyes, which were shining with unshed tears. He didn’t look at the others around him. He couldn’t, but he did feel Kageyama’s hand squeezing his in a death grip. Quickly, before he could lose his nerve, he continued.

 

“Towards the end of my third year in middle school, I...had a really bad day. Or rather, a bad string of days. Awful, terrifying thoughts kept circling in my head, and I didn’t know what to do. 

 

Bokuto-san had mentioned once that he cut because his nerve endings  _ could _ feel, and the pain helped him remember. Remember that he was a human being with blood in his veins. So, I tried it, but...I cut too deeply and ended up calling Bokuto in a panic. He called the ambulance and I was admitted to the hospital under suicide watch.

 

Eventually they let me go, but I couldn’t meet up with Bokuto for a few weeks because my mom was keeping a close eye on me. But then, I got a phone call. 

 

It was right before school started again. Bokuto was getting worse. I think he had just gotten in a fight with you, Akaashi-san, and was going on about how you deserved better than him, and how he should just...d-die.” Hinata’s breath shuddered on its way in, and Kageyama tightened his vice-like grip on his hand.

 

“I...didn’t know what to tell him, except...well, we used to write...letters. S-suicide notes. When we were feeling particularly bad. We’d talk about how we would do it. It was s-supposed to be a joint s-suicide. We’d come up with a plan, and then write a letter accordingly.

 

S-so, I told him to write one. I thought it would help. And it did, temporarily. But he never...he never got better. He lied, about everything. H-he, he never went to the self-help meetings. He was always with me. The meds I was on...I only ever took them when I wanted to overdose. But, I always just ended up puking anyway. Or cutting. And Bokuto...got more creative with his suicide plans.

 

I...didn’t want to die. Not really. But there were days...when I’d look in the mirror, and I’d absolutely hate what I saw. I felt like I could do it, in those moments. I could take my own life. But I couldn’t do it alone. 

 

I...I think Bokuto knew that. He knew that I couldn’t go through with it on my own. S-so he went and…” Hinata’s voice caught in his throat; the tears were free-flowing down his cheeks. “...left me behind.” 

 

“I...am so sorry, Akaashi-san. If I wasn’t such a selfish coward, this wouldn’t have happened. I...I could’ve told someone, tried to help Bokuto, but instead, I...I used him as a crutch, and now he’s gone. I…” Hinata ground his teeth as he pulled free from Kageyama. “I should have just killed myself instead of involving him!”

 

Hinata made a break for the door, which was conveniently located not five feet away. Honestly, though, there were so many people packed into that small space it was a wonder he made it out without getting caught.

 

But he did, and by the time his teammates had come to their senses, he was gone.

 

Akaashi collapsed to the ground and was vaguely aware of the chaos around him, as the Karasuno boys (minus Kageyama, who had gone after Hinata) voiced their panic and confusion. Kuroo, Daichi, and Suga were desperately trying to curb the mayhem, while Kenma knelt beside Akaashi, wrapping him in his thin arms.

 

“Let’s go somewhere quieter, Keiji.” 

 

He nodded numbly and allowed himself to be led away, his head filled to the brim with newfound knowledge and despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is taking a turn into AUville, but I think I kinda mentioned that already?? Hopefully?? Also, I know Hinata is pretty OOC, but well, this is a mental illness fic, soo...I feel like it's okay? Anyway, like I said I believe I'm going to wrap things up in the new chapter. Also I know I have KuroKen in the tags, buuuuutttt that's pretty much all you're gonna get. Maybe a little more next chapter, not really sure yet. Also the KageHina is coming, I promise, along with a bit of fluff to heal everyone's shattered hearts.
> 
> LASTLY (holy crap I am really rambling, sorry!) I just wanted to thank you all once again for reading. I know my constant replies might seem a bit obnoxious but I seriously get so happy when I see a new comment in my inbox, and last chapter's response was crazy! I am just in awe that people like it and are reading it, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much. It really does mean a lot to me.


	8. Take off my mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll keep trying, Suga-san. I’ll let you know if I find anything.” He hung up and immediately tried calling Hinata. Once again it went straight to voicemail, but like the previous ten times, Kageyama left a message.
> 
> “Hinata...Shouyou, if you get this, please at least text me so I know you’re okay. The team’s really worried about you. So am I. I...need you to be alive. You don’t have to be okay, just alive. Call me back, dumbass.” 
> 
> He hung up in agitation, and paced around the park bench he had stopped at. 
> 
> Where the hell could he be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, this is the final chapter. And surprise! Actual KuroKen AND KageHina fluff. Still a bit angsty but after all this is an angst fic so...
> 
> Enjoy!

Kenma wasn’t really good at communication. Maybe that was the reason he and Akaashi got along so well. It was almost like they had some sort of telepathic communication; whole conversations would take place through minimal eye contact and head nods. Kuroo didn’t really get it, but he was grateful for it now. 

 

Akaashi had been even more withdrawn the last few days, so Kuroo was relieved to find him curled next to Kenma, finally asleep and peaceful. 

 

“Hey, you. How’s he doing?” Kuroo spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

 

“Not great. Better than before, I guess.” Kenma paused, biting his lip. He must have been considerably worried; Kuroo immediately noticed the lack of a hand-held device, a tell-tale sign that Kenma was actually invested in the current events.

 

“What happened with Shouyou?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

 

“Kageyama and a few others are looking for him. They’re all pretty shaken up and really worried about him. I don’t think they knew about any of that…”

 

“He hid it really well,” Kenma answered softly.

 

“That’s becoming a common theme lately.” Kuroo glanced up at his boyfriend, and reached over to brush his hair back behind an ear. “Hey Ken?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You...have you ever felt like that? Would you tell me if you did?”

 

Kenma smiled gently and covered Kuroo’s broad hand with his own smaller one, pressing it to his cheek. “I have had some days where my anxiety gets a little difficult, and I’ve always had problems communicating with others. But, as much as I hate to admit it, playing volleyball and being with you have really helped. You would know if something happened, I can’t hide it very well.”

 

“I don’t want you to. No more hiding, please. I can’t take any more of this,” Kuroo breathed deeply and tried to organize his thoughts. “I can’t stand the thought of losing anyone else. Especially not you.”

 

Kenma pulled him into a hug before he could finish speaking, and rubbed his back soothingly. When had his little pudding head become so reliable?

 

“I’m not leaving, Tetsu,” he mumbled, kissing Kuroo’s bed head. “I’m right here, don’t worry.”

 

Kuroo nodded against him while Akaashi fidgeted in his sleep, prompting Kenma to wrap him in one arm while the other held his shaking boyfriend tightly. Soon all three were drifting off, safe in one another’s embrace.

 

—————————————————

 

“Have you tried calling his parents?”

 

“Yeah, his mom is panicked and has no idea where he could’ve gone. He’s not in any of his usual spots, either.” Kageyama tried to steady his voice as much as possible, but Suga picked up on his concern easily.

 

“Everything’s going to be okay, Kageyama. Stay calm, we’ll find him.”

 

“Yeah, I just...hope he’s alive when we do,” Kageyama muttered under his breath.

 

“Stop it.” Suga couldn’t handle this right now. He had been completely clueless about this whole situation, and honestly he was pretty pissed about it. How did he not realize one of his precious teammates was on the brink of mental destruction? He had always thought Hinata was pretty straightforward, and easy to figure out. Apparently not.

 

He couldn’t let any of this show on his face however, not when half the team was in tears and the other half on a frenzied manhunt for their sunshine child.

 

“Look, Kageyama, I can’t promise you that he’s going to be completely okay. But I know he’s not dead. Not yet. You just need to keep looking, okay? Don’t give up on him; don’t write him off just yet. He loves you, Kageyama. Please don’t give up on him.” 

 

Kageyama was stunned by his upperclassman’s honesty. Suga tended to, well, “suga-coat” things, but even Kageyama knew he wasn’t lying now. Hinata  _ did _ love him, even if it was a platonic love.

 

And he loved Hinata, in a definitely non-platonic way. But this wasn’t the time for that.

 

He was going to find his orange-haired dumbass, and he was gonna be alive, dammit!

 

“I’ll keep trying, Suga-san. I’ll let you know if I find anything.” He hung up and immediately tried calling Hinata. Once again it went straight to voicemail, but like the previous ten times, Kageyama left a message.

 

“Hinata...Shouyou, if you get this, please at least text me so I know you’re okay. The team’s really worried about you. So am I. I...need you to be alive. You don’t have to be okay, just alive. Call me back, dumbass.” 

 

He hung up in agitation, and paced around the park bench he had stopped at. 

 

Where the hell could he be?

 

—————————————————

 

His phone was buzzing nonstop with incoming messages from his teammates and his mom. Eventually he just turned it off. 

 

Hinata knew he was running away, but he was terrified of his friends’ reactions to...well, whatever this was. How was he going to face them after this? He couldn’t just stumble into practice tomorrow and act like everything was fine. Provided his mom ever let him practice again, after this. 

 

He would be the first to admit he wasn’t nearly as good an actor as Bokuto, and since his hospitalization his mom had kept a pretty strict watch over him. Lately he’d finally gained a bit of freedom, however, and his mom actually seemed to believe him when he claimed to be fine. 

 

And now he’d gone and fucked it up. Brilliant.

 

He needed a plan. Hinata mused over his options: run away, or face his friends.

 

_ There is another option _ , his brain unhelpfully supplied, but Hinata wouldn’t go there. Not now, anyway. Besides, that kind of fell under the “running away” option. So he wasn’t ruling it out, he was just too scared to go through with it. 

 

Plus, he had some unfinished business with a certain Kageyama Tobio, and if he died now it would never be resolved. 

 

But he would deal with that later, when he wasn’t having an internal crisis. For now, he needed to figure out his next step.

 

—————————————————

 

Kageyama couldn’t remember the last time he slept. They had searched for hours, but eventually the exhaustion won out and the Karasuno boys were forced to return home to their anxious parents. 

 

Hinata wasn’t at practice the next morning. Or at school. Or at afternoon practice.

 

That evening, his mother called the police. 

 

That was three days ago. It was now Friday afternoon, and for the first time in his life, Kageyama wanted to skip practice. He honestly didn’t think he could even look at a volleyball right now. Somehow, volleyball and Hinata had become intertwined, and it was now impossible to have one without the other. It just felt  _ wrong _ . 

 

He clenched his jaw and kicked the brick outside the gym in frustration. The police weren’t getting anywhere with their investigation, and Hinata hadn’t contacted anyone, despite the influx of messages he had to be receiving daily from the team.

 

Kageyama couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just walk in there and play without his dumbass spiking his tosses. However, just as he was about to turn away, he spotted a familiar orange head walking in his direction. 

 

—————————————————

 

Hinata tried to calm his racing heart as he entered the school gates and made a beeline for the gym. He knew he should’ve texted at least one of them, letting them know he was alive. But he didn’t want to give anyone false hope. He had almost done it once this past week. Almost. 

 

But then he remembered. Volleyball, his team, his mother, his sister…

 

Kageyama.

 

He just...had too much to lose. So he decided to drag his ass back to practice, praying that the team would be kind of enough to let bygones be bygones.

 

Okay, who was he kidding? They were going to be so pissed. Especially Kageyama. 

 

“HINATA!!!”

 

_ Speak of the devil, there he is _ . Hinata had about two seconds to brace himself for impact. He grit his teeth, honestly expecting a punch to the face judging by Kageyama’s murderous glare. 

 

He was not expecting to be nearly suffocated in an embrace. An embrace from Kageyama. 

 

When his brain finally recovered from its momentary shutdown, Hinata realized that Kageyama was a) still hugging him and b) shaking. And possibly crying. 

 

“Kageyama?” He was pretty sure he was shaking too. This was more nerve-wracking than their matches against Seijoh. 

 

“I thought you were dead.”

 

“I...what?” he stammered out. Kageyama’s grip somehow tightened around Hinata’s arm even as he pushed him away to yell in his face.

 

“I said, I thought you were dead, dumbass! You can’t just fucking announce that you’re suicidal and then  _ disappear _ for days on end without so much as a fucking phone call!” He  _ was _ shaking now, although he couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or Kageyama’s jostling.

 

“Don’t you realize how concerned everyone was? How concerned  _ I _ was? Fuck, Shouyou, I…” Kageyama couldn’t restrain his tears any longer, and his voice became gravelly with emotion. “I...thought I had lost you forever.”

 

Hinata was in shock. He knew Kageyama would be pissed, but wasn’t that because Hinata wasn’t there to spike his tosses? But judging by what he was saying now, it almost sounded like Kageyama was genuinely worried. About him.

 

“You were worried about me?” Hinata asked in disbelief. Kageyama couldn’t really mean that, right? There was no way. It was stupid to think that Kageyama could ever see him as anything more than a teammate.

 

Right?

 

“Of course I was, idiot! You are so-” Kageyama interrupted himself when he realized what Hinata was getting at. “Did...you honestly think I wouldn’t care? Have I really been that insensitive?” 

 

Hinata watched the tears pooling in Kageyama’s deep blue eyes, and came to the jaw-dropping realization that  _ holy shit, Kageyama has actual feelings _ and  _ oh fuck, I’ve been an idiotic asshole. _

 

“I...I am so, so sorry Kageyama. I just...I thought that I was worthless, you know? And I honestly hate the way I look sometimes. And, well, I…” Hinata knew this probably wasn’t the right time to drop another bomb on Kageyama, but it was obvious he cared and Hinata was so relieved he felt like he would burst if he didn’t get everything out in the open. So he went for it.

 

“When I’m with you, Kageyama, all the negative thoughts...well, they don’t go away, but they do become a bit more bearable. I love playing volleyball with you more than anything. But...I started to think that you didn’t feel the same. That I was replaceable to you. And that hurt. A lot. And Bokuto was getting worse, too...it took a huge toll on me, to be honest.” Hinata couldn’t stop his hands from trembling as they clenched into fists at his sides, tears pouring down his face as well as Kageyama’s. 

 

But he pressed on, having a sudden need to get everything off his chest.

 

“So I kept thinking that no one would really care if I died, you know? Like, you guys might be sad for a while, sure, but you’d get over it and find someone to replace me. So I decided to go through with it, but when the time came to actually follow through, I...couldn’t. Because I realized that I…” he paused to look Kageyama in the eyes once more. “I love you too much to just leave you like that. So, I came back, even though...even though I know you probably don’t feel the same. In fact, you’re probably disgusted with me, for various reasons. So please hurry and reject me so I can die in peace.” 

 

Kageyama went through a rapid series of emotions in a very short time. From overwhelming relief, to rage, to sadness, to joy. All in a span of about three minutes. But the strongest emotion by far was elation.

 

Hinata said he loved him. He liked him back.

 

Kageyama was so happy he almost missed the tail end of Hinata’s speech.

 

Almost.

 

But Kageyama is nothing if not observant, so as soon as the words left Hinata’s mouth, he was back in Kageyama’s arms. 

 

“Dumbass Hinata! What is it with you and death? I know I can be an asshole sometimes-”

 

“All the time.”

 

“-but what the hell did I do to make you think I could ever want anybody else?” 

 

Hinata froze in shock. Again. Honestly there was so much happening it was amazing he was still functioning. Meanwhile Kageyama had buried his face again, and Hinata was rapidly deciding this might be his favorite spot in the whole world. But then Kageyama’s words caught up to him and-

 

“Oh.” 

 

“Oh indeed. I know I’m not the brightest tool in the shed-”

 

“ _ Sharpest _ tool in the shed.”

 

“-but I honestly thought I couldn’t be more obvious. I really fucking love you too, okay?”

 

“You do?”

 

“I do. So stop talking about death and all that shit cause I honestly can’t handle much more of that. My nerves are beyond fried right now as it is.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” his voice was quivering so much he doubted Kageyama could even understand him, but he felt him nuzzle in his hair, and continued. “I have been so selfish, and stupid, but I’m gonna try to get better, and maybe I can figure out how to stop the bad thoughts in my head. But until I get there, will you stay with me, Kageyama? I...can’t do it by myself. I’m gonna have a lot of rough days...will you stay with me even then?”

 

“Of course I will. I want to do anything I can to help you get better. I know it’ll be tough, but I’m willing to see it through. However,” he paused and back up a bit to look Hinata in the eye, “no more lies, okay? You have to promise to be completely honest with me, even if the truth sucks. And you absolutely cannot disappear on me again. If you need some alone time that can be arranged, but no more of this not-answering-your-phone business, got it?”

 

“Yeah, I got it.” Hinata allowed himself a small smile at Kageyama’s fretting. 

 

Maybe he could allow himself a bit of happiness every now and then. 

 

Yeah, he could definitely do that.

 

—————————————————

 

Of course, happiness was the last thing on his mind, now that he was actually standing outside the gym doors. He had finally gotten off the phone with his mom, who had spent a solid fifteen minutes ranting and sobbing, before finally calming down with an order to “come right home with Kageyama-kun” as soon as practice was over.

 

Now to face the team.

 

Fuck.

 

He kind of really didn’t want to do this, but he also kind of really didn’t want to let go of Kageyama’s hand either, and Kageyama sure as hell wasn’t moving. So, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

 

Noya was the first to notice. Honestly Hinata didn’t think the noise he made in that moment could ever be replicated.

 

“SHOUYOU!!!” Was the only warning he got before being completely flattened by his senpai. The others weren’t too far behind.

 

“Hinata, thank god!”

 

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

 

“Thank goodness! Does your mother know you’re safe?”

 

“We were so worried, Hinata!”

 

“I’m glad you’re okay but you have a shit ton of explaining to do!”

 

“Ooh Daichi just swore!”

 

“ENOUGH!” Coach Ukai’s voice thundered from somewhere behind the rambunctious lot, and everyone immediately quieted down and backed away as Kageyama helped Hinata to his feet.

 

“Hinata, we’ve all been incredibly worried about you. Have you spoken to your mother yet? Did she tell you that we contacted the police?” He tried to sound severe, but the relief was already sabotaging his efforts. Hinata nodded, and Ukai did something highly unexpected.

 

He stepped forward and ruffled Hinata’s hair, and in what appeared to be an affectionate tone, said, “I’m glad you’re okay, kid. But don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again, understand?”

 

“I understand, Coach!”

 

“Right. Good. Okay, uh, I guess you guys can have a few minutes to say what you need to say, then it’s time to clean up!” Ukai shuffled back awkwardly, and immediately Hinata was surrounded once more. But before the questions could start flying, he held up his hand for silence.

 

“Um, if I could maybe explain myself first, then answer questions after?”

 

The others nodded in agreement, and he began.

 

—————————————————

 

As he described the events leading up to Bokuto’s funeral, he wondered why he didn’t just do this from the beginning. It was surprisingly easy to talk to his teammates; not once did they interrupt, and even Tsukishima looked like he was paying attention. It also felt really good to finally open up to everyone. 

 

Sure, some parts were painful, and he really didn’t like making Suga cry. And he had to apologize. A lot. But by the end it felt like a huge weight had been lifted. 

 

He knew there would still be bad days. Just because he had decided to stop lying about it didn’t mean it was gone forever. 

 

It just meant he didn’t have to fight alone.

 

He didn’t have to pretend anymore.

 

He could finally remove that goddamn mask.

 

And honestly?

 

It felt owlsome.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the next chapter is basically just gonna be a a long ass author's note so yeah.
> 
> This is it, holy crap. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much. It's hard to believe it's done, and I'm a little sad about it, but hey, on to the next thing I guess!
> 
> As always, feel free to comment :)


	9. Author's Note

Hey all!

 

So I just wanted to formally thank everyone who read this through to the end. This was my first fan fiction ever and it's been a long time since I've written anything, so honestly I was terrified.

 

When I posted the first chapter I was so shocked and happy to get 10 hits in about 5 minutes. I couldn't believe people were actually clicking on it. By the time I posted the second chapter the next week, I had almost 400 hits and I almost cried. And once the kudos started coming in and people started commenting, I just...I couldn't believe it. 

 

Seriously, your comments and kudos mean so much to me. I check Archive every day to see if I have anything in my inbox because getting comments is the most encouraging thing.

 

So to those of you who have left even one comment, thank you so much. To those of you who have taken the time to comment on each chapter, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I realize this probably seems excessive but it's just been such a long time since I've felt this accomplished and happy, I feel like I can't thank you guys enough.

 

So yeah, moving forward!

 

I'm going to start an EnnoTana fic next, hopefully less angsty and more romancey. But knowing me there will be a bit of angst (sorry). 

 

I will also be writing a side story to this one, going into more detail about Hinata's end of things, and showing more of the team's reaction to everything, so look forward to that!

 

I may just turn this into a series, focusing on various mental illnesses for different characters...we shall see!

 

Anyway, let me know your thoughts on the last chapter and the fic as a whole, what you liked/disliked, favorite parts, etc. 

 

I hope you guys have a great day/evening/whatever, and as always feel free to talk with me on Tumblr! [carissathepanda18.tumblr.com](http://carissathepanda18.tumblr.com) 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr! panimemanda.tumblr.com :)


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